The Awkward Inquisitor
by Revan's split personality
Summary: Mira Trevelyan is a spoiled noble with a talent for saying and doing the wrong thing at the wrong time. Can she be the saviour Thedas needs in its time of crisis, or will she be too busy nervously vomiting behind that building over there?


The Awkward Inquisitor

A Little Help, Please?

Mirabelle Trevelayn slowly forced her eyes open with a pained grunt. She had forgotten how long she had been kneeling on the dank stone floor of her one room prison, surrounded by guards with their swords pointed at her. She also didn't realize she had fallen asleep and started to drool…she wiped her face on her shoulder, as her hands were a little too busy being shackled to really help, and she certainly didn't trust the weird green glow coming from her left palm. Also, both her feet were asleep, she had a crick in her neck, and she was thirsty. This was not turning out to be a good day.

Suddenly, with great energy, the door to the room was thrown open and two women strode in. The guards sheathed their swords (in impressive unison) and stood back to give the two ladies room to approach the prisoner. One wore heavy armor with a symbol Mira recognized as representative of the Seekers, and the other wore a hood and chainmail. They both fixed her with angry glowers as they approached, the hooded one stopping a short distance in front of her, and the Seeker moving to stand just behind her.

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now." The Seeker growled into Mira's ear, her tone clearly communicating that it was more than just an idle threat aimed at getting information. She continued to pace. "The conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for _you_." The Seeker stopped in front of Mira, punctuating her sentence with an accusatory pointing gesture. The hooded lady watched, her expression impassive, yet somehow still angry. It reminded Mira of her mother watching her while in dancing lessons…mother just stood there like an elegant, poised statue, looking perpetually disappointed as she watched her offspring flop about while the dance tutor clucked his tongue in frustration. She could never remember the steps…was it one two _three_ four, or one _two_ three four? Her mother gave up after five long years, and they agreed that Mira should avoid all dancing by telling everyone she suffered an unfortunate shoe-related incident after receiving a new pair of heels from Orlais and getting a little too excited on the grand staircase. No, magic couldn't heal her ankle properly. I guess she does seem to be walking fine. Stop asking questions and put this canapé into your word hole, cousin Emile. You blather too much anyway, and your parents were always an embarrassment to the family.

The Seeker broke through Mira's unpleasant reminiscing by grabbing her left hand and thrusting it into her own face.

"Explain _this_."

Well. That was better than chanting 'stop punching yourself' while she continued to smack Mira in the face using Mira's own hand. The Seeker forcefully pushed Mira's hand down as she released it and once again paced like a caged lion. This time the hooded one joined in the pacing fun. Mira fought the urge to vomit all over herself, a nervous habit she picked up as a child. "I…I c-can't…" Somehow she figured that no one here would be kind enough to ring the servants to come clean her up and give her a nice cup of peppermint and elfroot tea to help settle her nervous stomach should she gracefully throw up all over herself.

"What do you mean, you can't?" The Seeker barked back, clearly not impressed with Mira's answer. Or non-answer, really.

"I don't know what that is, or how it got there!" Mira whined back, just wanting the whole ordeal to be over. The Seeker had other ideas, apparently, as she grabbed Mira by the front of her armour and gave her a good shake.

"You're lying!"

Her hooded friend grabbed the Seeker by the arm and pulled her away from Mira. "We need her, Cassandra." The both turned to look at Mira for a moment.

Mira turned her head to the side and retched mightily. Well. At least it was just dry heaving. Last time she threw up, it was all over Aunt Renaya's favourite velvet ottoman, newly upholstered in a rich, brassy orange for the fall season. While the colours were complimentary, vomit is never a good look. Or smell. Her aunt didn't talk to her for _months_. The other two women exchanged glances that could only be described as a mixture of alarm and disgust before the hooded one approached Mira.

"Do you remem-"

She was cut off as Mira dry heaved a few more times. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as Mira composed herself and took a few deep breaths. "Ok… I think I'm ok. Sorry. Go on."

The hooded woman cleared her throat delicately before trying again. "Do you remember what happened? How this began?"

Mira thought back to her most recent memories of the Conclave. "I remember…running. From spiders. Giant, horrible spiders. Terrible, ugly, _disgusting_ giant spiders with all the legs and eyes…" Mira shuddered. "And then…a woman?" She pursed her lips, trying to accurately recall what the glowing figured looked like, exactly. Maybe a woman? Definitely not a spider. That was all she really cared about, at that particular moment in her life. Beggars running away from giant spider monsters can't be choosers.

"A woman?" Chainmail lady responded, sounding like her interest had been piqued.

"Yes, a woman, I think." Mira responded, not quite sure why the woman part was the most interesting part of that dialogue. "She reached out to me, but then…" Then things got a bit hazy. There was a bright light, maybe? The next thing she remembered was waking up here, covered in her own drool.

The Seeker, who Mira now knew was named Cassandra, turned to Chainmail and motioned toward the door. "Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift."

 _That_ sounded ominous.

Leliana nodded and left the room while Cassandra knelt to remove the shackles from Mira's wrists.

"What did happen?" Mira asked quietly while Cassandra bound her wrists with rope instead.

"It…would be easier to show you." Cassandra replied as she rose to her feet. She grasped Mira's arm, intending to help her rise, but wasn't expecting to support Mira's full weight. She grunted in surprise as the noble did a painful looking faceplant into the stone floor, but quickly recovered and helped the poor girl into a sitting position.

"Can you grab me the handkerchief in my left pocket, please?" Mira asked as she tilted her head back in an unsuccessful attempt to decrease the flow of blood pouring from her nose. Cassandra complied, and Mira somehow managed to maneuver her hands in a way that allowed her to both hold up the kerchief and pinch the bridge of her nose. She looked sideways at Cassandra, her head still tilted back at an uncomfortable angle, and gave the Seeker and apologetic shrug. "Both my feet fell asleep…" She stretched out her legs and wiggled her feet to get the blood flowing again.

To her credit, the Seeker was relatively patient. She waited until her prisoner sucked in air through her teeth and muttered 'ooooh pins and needles, pins and needles' before hauling her to her feet and pushing her through the door. At least her nose had stopped bleeding. Mira shielded her eyes from the sudden, drastic increase in lighting and blinked hard a few times while her eyes adjusted. Fresh air! Cold snow! The smell of the wood smoke from the local peasant's fireplaces! She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then looked up at the sky as she exhaled. The surprise was like a punch in the gut. There, in the middle of the sky, was a giant hole, glowing with a menacing green light. The clouds swirled around it violently. It was like the shit eye in center of the shit storm, as her Uncle Vernius would say. But they didn't talk about him anymore. Not after _the incident_. Mira stared at the sky in both awe and horror as she absentmindedly wiped the blood from her face.

"We call it the Breach." Cassandra gazed at the tear in the sky as well, and frowned. "It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour." Funny…that's what Uncle Vernius used to say about his wife. Cassandra turned to look at Mira. "It's not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave."

Mira frowned deeply. "An explosion can do _that_?" She had heard of what happened at Kirkwall. Why didn't the same thing happen there?

"This one did." Cassandra replied simply. Ah. Well then. That explained it all. Explosions don't cause tears in the sky, unless they do. "Unless we act, the Breach might grow until it swallows the world."

They both watched as the tear in the sky sparked and thundered. A corresponding surge in energy spewed forth from the mark in Mira's hand. She cried out in pain and fell to her knees, flailing uselessly. Cassandra knelt by her.

"Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads, and it _is_ killing you. It may be the key to stopping this…but there isn't much time."

Mira sighed. She should have just stayed home and attended her mother's salon, but nooooo. She had to volunteer to attend the Conclave, because if she had to hear Aunt Carilyne's story about the fifteen Chevaliers that had a naked mud wrestling competition to the death over the opportunity to earn her love ONE MORE TIME, Mira was going to LOSE HER MIND. WHY DID YOU MARRY A SECOND RATE NOBLE'S THIRD SON THEN, HUH? Wait…that sort of thing was _exactly_ why she volunteered to get as far away from her mother's parties as possible.

Maybe this mark that was slowly killing her wasn't so bad after all. "Ok. I'll do whatever I can to help."

Cassandra seemed surprised at that answer. She helped Mira to her feet, which were functioning as normal now that they had regular blood flow, and nodded in approval.

This was going to be interesting. And probably horrifying.


End file.
